The Breakup Mix (12 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Be Without You

Chance

Leave it to Alissa to schedule her ultrasound on a morning when I have to be out of town chasing down the president of the United States while simultaneously trying to avoid and run into my ex-boyfriend——it changed every hour.

By seven o’clock, I was dressed in my three-piece black pencil skirt suit checking in to get my press tag and coordinating with the road crew on the best background angle preparing to go live as long as Jack didn’t miss his cue . . . again. I only had a ninety-second spot to advertise the broadcast we’d be doing later in the day covering the president’s tour of St. Louis. It sounded lame that they even wanted me to bother with this when the real story was taking place behind the scenes, and that’s what I wanted to scoop. But I wiped off my irritation and smiled when the camera rolled.

I dropped my mic to my waist after the camera cut off and stuffed my notebook into my briefcase. I grabbed the press schedule of the president’s visit and looked at the crew. “We’re blacked out during his breakfast meeting and—” I looked up and saw Tony standing on the sidewalk about twenty feet from me. His face was contorted in disbelief. “Tony?” He took a few steps toward me then paused before taking a few more. I looked at the crew. “I’ll meet you at the van.” Then cleared the distance between us. “I wondered if I would see you here. You’ve never been one to miss a scoop.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re here! I mean, I wondered if you’d make it up for the press dinner, but wow, you look great, Chance.”

I smiled. “Back atcha. It’s great to see you, Tony.”

He fidgeted and chuckled. “I . . . I honestly don’t know what to say right now. Wow, it’s great to see you.” He hugged me—oh he smelled so good. “How long are you in St. Louis?”

I waved at the van. “I’m here until this whole thing is over. I got in last night.”

Tony ran his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you call me? You should have told me you were in town.”

I shrugged and lied. “It was late when we got into town.”

“You’re still a terrible liar, Chance. For a journalist, that’s not a good thing.” He winked.

I laughed. “So are you covering the whole thing?”

“No, I’m here with the anchor.” He pointed toward the prettiest redhead I’ve ever had the pleasure of hating at first sight.

“Wow,” I mumbled.

“That’s Miriam O’Bannon. She took the anchor position I offered you last year.” He looked back at her then looked at me and grinned. “You can stop cutting her with your eyes anytime you’re ready.”

I blinked and smiled at him. “She looks extremely . . . professional.” I cleared my throat. “Where did you find her, at the strip club?”

“Nah, that girl didn’t work out—turns out she couldn’t read. It was a tough decision.”

I smacked his arm and chuckled. “You’re a pig.”

He shrugged. “What? I’m a man and have an appreciation for a beautiful woman.” His eyes locked on mine and reached into my throat, cutting off my oxygen.

I looked away and tucked my hair behind my ear. I couldn’t help but stare at Miriam’s elegant figure and salon-perfect hair. Every move she made seemed perfectly choreographed by years of reform school. “Jesus, is she even human?” I muttered.

Tony touched the small of my back and leaned toward my ear. “Now, Chance, don’t be jealous. Green never looked good on you.”

“Bullshit, green is one of my best colors. And, I’m not jealous by any means. I’m taking great satisfaction in knowing she stays hungry eighty percent of the time to keep herself so skinny.”

Tony laughed and pulled away. “I better get back over there.” He tilted his head and smiled. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Chance.”

I smiled back. “It’s great to see you, too, Tony.”

“Save a dance for me tonight,” he said with a wink and walked away. He has the best swagger I’ve ever seen—confident and aware that people (read: me) are watching.

A redhead. She’s a fucking redhead. He loves red in every shade, and his bombshell Barbie anchor is a redhead. I had an overwhelming desire to drench her in the worst shade of pink I could find to drown out her inconvenient beauty. I looked at the crew standing by the van and readjusted my briefcase. I was here to do a job, and I was going to make sure that bitch didn’t get a better story. “Guys, we have work to do. Most of these guys are going to be following the president like a puppy to get the best shot of his tour, but I want to scoop the story behind his visit. I know there’s more behind this than breakfast and a ball. Let’s get busy.”

I told the crew I’d meet back up with them at eleven and assigned each of them an area to work to see if they could drum up any local rumors that might give us a starting point. I drove three blocks and found the latest copy of the Post-Dispatch and a coffee shop. I looked at my watch and decided to sit inside and see if the locals were riled up. I grabbed my briefcase and took off my press badge—no need in advertising to the general public that I was out sniffing a story.

I ordered my coffee and chose a table near a group of businessmen shop-talking before work. The television above me flashed to an advertisement of Tony’s station, and there was Miss Miriam staring at the camera with her perfect smile and luxurious locks spilling over her malnourished shoulders.

“Tramp,” I whispered as I flipped open the newspaper and took a drink of my coffee. I scanned the headlines and found nothing other than the waning talent of written journalism and four typos in one article. One of the men at the table next to me cleared his throat and smiled at me when I made eye contact with him. He tipped his coffee cup at me and winked. Even in the lowlighting, the gold in his wedding ring glowed with caution. I smiled and returned my attention to the newspaper while hoping he spilled coffee on his groin and wiped it up with his eyelids.

Another man at the table asked, “So how’s your daughter doing, Paul?”

“Still in the hospital. They’re running more tests on her today.”

“Any ideas? Are they leaning toward anything specific?”

“Nah, just some virus going around school. The children’s wing is full, though, so I hope they figure it out quickly.”

I shuffled the paper two pages back to read an article I’d skipped.
Local Children Hospitalized with Respiratory Virus
. The article indicated forty-two children in the St. Louis area had been admitted with severe respiratory problems and high fevers but no cause could be determined.
Bingo
.

I folded the paper, stuffed it in my bag, and looked up the address for the nearest hospital. As I stood, Tony walked in the door.

“You’re easy to tail, Miss Bradley.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I still carry mace, Tony. You must be really bored if you’re tailing your ex who is simply going for a cup of coffee to kill time.”

“Ah, see, I call bullshit on that. You smell something, and I know it.”

I shrugged and took a drink of my coffee. “It’s called caffeine. Where’s Barbie?” Tony smirked and rubbed the back of his neck, but I didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Wait, let me guess. She’s already lining up waiting to get that perfect shot for the twelve o’clock live broadcast.”

His eyebrow shot up. “And you’re not?”

I huffed and started toward the door. “No, I’m certainly not going to stand around waiting to get a waving glimpse of the president.”

“So you
do
smell a story.” He whispered in my ear, “So do I.”

My heartbeat quickened with the warmth of his breath and the validation that I was onto something big. I turned toward him and grinned. “You’re off your game, old man. The big story is the president is touring the St. Louis area. Maybe you should have Barbie climb up the Arch to get the best view of his trip she can. Wouldn’t that be a great story? Then she could rappel using her long, red Rapunzel hair.”

Tony laughed and shook his head. “You gonna tell me where you’re going, or do I get the thrill of the chase again?”

God, he’s sexy. Visions of us making scandalous use of a cheap hotel room crossed my mind, and if there weren’t sick children counting on me to discover the cause of their illness, I would handcuff him and take him to the room myself. “I have nothing to tell you, Tony. I’m surprised you left the puppy unattended, so maybe you should go check and make sure she hasn’t chipped a nail or lost an eyelash.” I tilted my coffee cup toward him. “Cheers!” I opened the door and headed to my car. I stopped a few feet from my door and felt the rage brewing in my gut, slowly making its way up my neck to erupt on my face. The car in front of me was parked normally; the large media van behind me, however, was parked so close to my bumper it could be considered part of my license plate. I spun on my heels and started toward the coffee shop when I saw Tony leaned up against the building intently studying his fingernails. His satisfied grin and failure to make eye contact with me told the story that he’d bested me and knew it the whole time.

“Tony, move that piece of shit before I—”

He held his hand up. “What are you going to do, Chance, smash your beautiful little car into my hunk of shit? Come on. You’ll total your car and I’ll get another scratch.”

“The only scratches will be my nails down your face if you don’t move that van!”

“I much preferred your nails down my back, but I guess that goes without saying, my lady.” He bucked off the wall and sauntered over to the back of the van. “Yeah, I think I can get out of here. Maybe.”

I stormed over to where he stood and assessed the closeness of the car behind the van. “This isn’t funny, Tony.”

He turned. “Tell me where you’re going, or better yet, just get in, and we can go together.”

“Not on your life,” I muttered.

“Come on. This is my town. I can get you there faster, and I think I’ve proven that a time or two.”

I kept the sophomoric chuckle embedded in my chest and stared at him. “Why are you such a dick?”

He threw up his hands. “It’s a gift—genetic. Get in.”

“No, we’ll take my car. I don’t want to drive around in a press van and advertise that the media is sniffing around.”

He looked at the van and nodded. “Good point.”

“And, no way are you driving my car. I’ve seen you drive and I’d rather not throw up today, thanks.” I fished my keys out of my purse and opened the car door. I tossed my bag in the back seat for good measure and sat in the driver’s seat waiting for him to back up.

The second I had enough clearance, I threw the car in reverse, flipped my blinker on, and peeled out of the parking spot into the street. I opened my sunroof and flipped Tony off as I squealed tires heading east laughing maniacally the whole way.

Thanks to the traffic I cut off to make my escape, I had a half-block jump on him and was gaining distance. I took turns I didn’t need to take to shake my tail and giggled through the exhilaration of being in a car chase. I felt like I was in a James Bond movie without the ridiculously expensive car.

My cell phone illuminated with the contact, “Do Not Answer,” I’d been craving for over a year—just not under these circumstances. I tried not to sound like I was smiling when I answered. “This is Chance.”

“Very clever, Ms. Bradley,” he purred.

“Rule number one, Sir Tony: never trust a journalist.”

“Rule number two, Ms. Bradley: never try to beat a pursuing journalist in his own town.”

I glanced around to find him sitting at the red light to my right. My eyes locked on his as he gave me a finger wave. His voice purred in my ear, “You may go now, Ms. Bradley. Point—Tony.”

I continued through the intersection. “Well done, master navigator. The story involves sick kids and a possible cover-up.”

“That’s a dead story, Chance. We’ve already looked into it. There’s nothing there. It’s a random strand of virus that’s mutated and has to run its course.”

“Maybe so, but maybe it’s not.”

“Look, don’t go Brockovich on us. I’m telling you it’s a dead end.”

“The president has access to nearly every city in the world. Why is he in St. Louis?”

“He needs a PR visit—baby kissing, shaking hands with the elderly and the vets, and then back to Washington with renewed hope in his constituents.”

I thought for a moment. “Still not buying it. There’s a story around here.” Tony was quiet on the other end, so I checked my phone to see if I still had a signal. “Tony, are you there?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here, Chance. I just . . . I was . . . I really missed you, Chance.”

My nose burned with tears forming in my eyes and my throat constricted. I whispered, “I missed you too, Tony,” and hung up before he could tell he’d gotten to me.

Chapter Seventeen

Jar of Hearts

Alissa

I looked at the time on my cell phone then looked at Dani for the twelfth time in six minutes. “What’s the point of having an appointment with a doctor if the appointment is give-or-take forty minutes?” When she didn’t respond, I asked, “Do you know how many germs are on that magazine you’re holding?”

Dani flipped the page. “Do you know how many germs are on your cell phone?”

I studied the phone and frowned. “Really?”

She chuckled. “When was the last time you cleaned it?”

“I never thought about it.”

“Okay,
that’s
disgusting.” She showed me a picture of a woman with a buzz cut. “I think you should cut your hair like this.”

“Ugh, whatever. You first.” She leaned back in her chair. I stood up and walked to the window so I could wipe my hands on my pants. Her comment about my cell phone had my skin crawling.

I stared at the lawn care workers who resembled ants on a mission. Two were standing on lawnmowers and zipped back and forth in two different sections but their synchronized motions seemed planned and purposeful. Three guys with wheelbarrows toted mulch from a truck to the flowerbeds that they’d cleaned out in preparation for fall. I wondered how many thousands of dollars this complex spent on landscaping instead of researching birth control pills that, oh, I don’t know,
won’t
allow unsuspecting women to get pregnant.

I sighed and walked toward Dani. She handed me a tissue with a dab of antibacterial hand sanitizer. “Here. Clean your phone so you’ll calm down.”

“Oh thank God.” I focused on smearing the sanitizer all over the screen and case and asked, “Did you talk to your boss, yet?”

Dani shrugged. “I mentioned that I needed to take some time off for personal reasons.”

“How’d that go over? Great, now the tissue is leaving little white particles all over this thing.” I wiped the phone on my pants and swiped at the remnants on my pants. “Great.”

Dani chuckled and set her magazine on the table before shifting in her chair to look at me. “I’ll have to quit my job. They won’t let me off for six months then give me maternity leave after the baby is born.”

I glanced at her. “What do you think about that?”

She shrugged and looked at the same poster I’d memorized thirty minutes ago. “I think I’ve got no choice. I’m going to turn in my notice this afternoon.”

“Really? That’s so great! We can go . . .”

The door to the waiting room opened as a nurse called my name. I locked eyes with Dani. “Ready?”

Her eyes misted as she nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

My legs felt like I’d deadlifted four-hundred pounds a minute earlier as I stood. “Moment of truth. Let’s go see the private guest.”

“The baby,” Dani whispered.

The room was dimly lit with a bed and ultrasound machine nearby. The most awkward thing about the beds was how far apart the stirrups are while you’re sitting half-naked waiting for the doctor to come in. If you let your legs dangle, you feel like a kindergartener waiting for the principal to scold you; if you put your feet in the stirrups, you look overly eager for the procedure. I split the difference and paced in my gown while trying not to moon Dani in the process.

“Geez, you’re making me nervous with all this pacing.”

“Have you ever noticed how much time people expect Americans to sit? Everywhere you go there are chairs, benches, beds, seats, and everything in between. It’s no wonder obesity is so rampant. People sit too much.”

“Are you channeling Michelle today? You sound a lot like her right now. I’ve never seen you so irritable.”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” I mumbled.

“Why?”

“Maybe you should ask your child. I puked a good part of the evening then had stupid dreams and woke up drenched in my own sweat bad enough to change my sheets.”

“I’ve heard that’s normal.”

“And, I fart . . . a lot. Like explosive, house-shaking farts.”

Dani curled over her legs and covered her mouth to stifle the laughter pouring out of her. Every time she tried to speak, she burst out laughing again.

“I guess I shouldn’t tell you about my boobs itching.”

The doctor walked in and looked at Dani still chuckling and wiping the tears from her eyes. “Looks like I’m late to the party. Hi, I’m Dr. Moreau. I assume you’re Alissa since you’re the one dressed for the ball.”

“Clever,” I said as I shook his hand. “This is my friend, Dani.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, well hello, Dani.”

Dani blushed. “No, it’s not like that. I’m just here for moral support.”

The doctor smiled but didn’t appear to be convinced. “Pleasure to meet you. Okay, Alissa, let’s take a look and see how far along you are. Climb on up on the table.”

Dani stood. “I’m going to come up here by your head. I don’t need to see all that.”

“You’ll get enough of that in the delivery room.” I shivered and pushed the images of childbirth out of my mind.

Dr. Moreau said, “Now, this is an internal exam; you’re aware of that, right?” He picked up an instrument at least a foot long with a ball on the end of it.

I looked wide-eyed at Dani and mumbled, “Impressive.”

She covered her mouth and laughed into her hand.

“Okay, here we go,” he said as he inserted the instrument into my vagina. For some strange reason, the humor in the bizarre scene set before me attacked, and I started laughing. The more I saw my legs up in the air, the gown of modesty to protect me from my own junk draped across my knees yet my crotch was wide open in front of a man sticking a lube-slicked instrument in me.

“Are you going to buy me dinner after this?” I said. Dani howled, and my stomach bounced up and down on the table with my own laughter. “After seeing that thing, I’m really disappointed in my last boyfriend.”

Dani had to sit down to prevent herself from falling. She gasped for air as I wiped the tears rolling out of my eyes. I tilted my head up to get a visual of the doctor who was trying to maintain his professional composure while appreciating the humor in the situation. He cleared his throat and shook his head while focusing on the monitor that was coming to life with white and black swirling images.

“Is this a Rorschach test? I’ll play; I see my mother.”

Dani sprang toward the bed and leaned closer. “Is that it?” she pointed to the screen.

“That,” he said, “is the baby, yes. Good job.” Dani’s face registered complete awe as she stared at the grey image. “See that little flutter right here?” he asked. “That’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

I stared at the screen and watched the black hole move, and there, off to the side, was the tiniest little fluttering mass. “Oh, I see it!”

Dani giggled. “Lis, that’s the baby!” She wiped the tears off her face and asked the doctor, “Can you tell how far along she is?”

“Looks like about five weeks and a few days.”

Five weeks . . . five weeks ago I was in a relationship ignoring the warning signs of a man who was growing more disinterested in me. The blip on the screen was my mother’s grandchild. I thought to myself,
God, let this baby be a boy. Let him have a fighting chance.

The doctor took several screen shots and measurements. I looked at the little peanut-shaped mass and tried to make out the image of a baby. “Okay, it looks like your due date is around May eighth. We’ll be able to get a better idea when you’re further along, but let’s go with that date for now.”

I looked at Dani’s face and grinned. “May eighth it is! That sounds so far away.”

“It’ll go quicker than you think.” He removed the instrument and stood. “I’ll step out so you can get dressed.”

I sat up and mumbled, “Don’t step out on my account. You’ve already seen the jewels.”

Dani tapped my leg and smiled at the doctor. “She didn’t sleep well last night. She’s a little cranky.”

The doctor smiled and left the room as Dani walked to the chair and brought me my clothes. She shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

I grabbed my clothes and scooted off the bed as I untied my gown. “What? I thought it was funny. I didn’t see a ring on his finger. Maybe he’s single.”

Dani chuckled. “Oh yes, that’s exactly what you need—a man whose profession involves seeing other women’s nether regions daily.”

“I’ve never understood that—guys who go into the hooch business. Seems like it would be a killjoy.”

Dani shook her head and whispered, “Hooch business . . . did you see that little teeny tiny heartbeat?”

I smiled. “Yes, I saw it. It was very sweet, very tiny. So where to next? Do you have to go to work after this?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. What are you going to do?”

I pulled my jacket over my shirt and slipped on my shoes. “I don’t know. Everyone I know is still working. Chance is in St. Louis. I could crash the big ball tonight.” I grinned and shook my shoulders.

“Never mix friendship and business—that’s our rule, remember?”

I huffed. “You’re no fun. Maybe I can convince Katie to take off at noon and go shopping.”

“Good luck there,” she mumbled.

“I haven’t seen or heard much out of her, have you?”

“Not really, but that’s not uncommon. You know how she is—she’ll pop up sometime. Ready?”

“Yep. Wanna grab something to eat before you go to the office?”

Dani chuckled. “What’s with you? You act like you are scared to death to be alone or something.”

I scoffed. “I am not! I’ve been thinking about having the living room painted again, so maybe I’ll run by there and see what they say.”

“Paint fumes might not bode well for the nausea,” she said as she got in the car.

“Everything makes me puke right now. I don’t see how paint fumes could make it any worse.”

Dani turned in her seat. “Lis, are you absolutely sure about this?”

I glanced at her and bit my lip to stop my quivering chin. My words were thick as they left my mouth. “I can’t be like Mom, Dani. Or my sisters.”

She put her hand on mine. “But maybe you won’t be! Maybe you’ll be the best mother in your family.”

I chuckled and wiped the tears rolling down my face. “It wouldn’t take much to best the women in my family. I . . . I can’t take that chance, Dani, and I really don’t want to. I feel like the worst person on earth. Your face—the way you looked at the monitor when we were seeing the private guest for the first time—
that’s
how it should be. That’s how
I should
be, but I can’t find it in me. My therapist will have a hay day with this next session, I can tell ya that. Sure, I could provide for this baby and hire the best nanny, send it to the best schools, and give it the life that no one in my family has ever had, but I’ve already raised three kids and look how they turned out. Nothing I did, no amount of advice, no effort I gave could break that family curse. Hell I even tried to bribe them! And now I’m the bad guy because I wanted them to have a fighting chance, and look at them.”

“Are they happy, though?” she whispered as she wiped her tears.

I shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe they are. I’m the bad guy, remember? The rich bitch, as they call me.”

“You’re going to have to work through that guilt and not let them shame you like this, Lis.”

“Well if you can figure out how to get rid of it, I’ll start seeing you instead of my therapist.”

Dani slipped on her seatbelt and stared out the window. I took my opportunity to get moving.